


kaiju blue

by wizardcity



Category: Free!
Genre: Gen, MakotoCentric, Pacific Rim AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardcity/pseuds/wizardcity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto has always been scared of monsters and the ocean, so he wonders why he’s here of all places. — Pacific Rim AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kaiju blue

Makoto has always been scared of monsters. 

He would never play with those grotesque plastic figurines, the ones those  _other_ boys would crash and stomp and yell with. He remembers when he was seven, his father bought him one for his birthday. 

Makoto never understood why someone would design something so terrifying; something that didn’t even exist; something that would never appear in this world ever. The piercing eyes bore into him as he rolled the small toy around in his hands, the harsh plastic scales marking his skin, the sharp teeth arranged in a terrifying smile.

After unwrapping it, Makoto, the polite boy he was, murmured a thanks, took the figurine to his room and threw it under his bed. He laid in bed, arm over his eyes, and dreamt of giant, hulking monsters that resided underwater, monsters with beady, calculating eyes, monsters that ripped him apart.

He has his first nightmare.

**♦**

The first Kaiju makes landfall in Sydney when Makoto is nine. He’s watching a cartoon with his brother and sister, trying hard to find something that appeases them both, until a news alert program comes on. 

Makoto doesn’t say anything; he just watches the giant  _creature,_  monster, whatever it is, rampage Sydney, flattening entire buildings in a matter of minutes. There are so many people scrambling around, lost, confused,  they zoom in on some of their faces; they are all broken, dust stained, trails of tears making their way down like small rivers.

The only thing that flashes in his mind is Rin.

The phone next to him rings as if to echo his thoughts. Makoto picks up the phone without wrenching his gaze away. It’s Haru; his voice is somehow still calm and clear, but behind it, there’s a slight tremble.

A fierce roar from the television set chills Makoto into speaking.

“Is Rin alright?” 

“I don’t know.”

Makoto hangs up without another word and scrambles to find Rin’s phone number; it’s here, it has to be  _here._ He finally finds it, folded neatly into a journal that lies on his desk. He runs back to the living room, finds the phone and punches the number in.

The line is dead.

There is endless static, but Makoto swears he hears a faint bellow.

**♦**

It’s a nightmare: a total of six days and three nuclear missiles are needed to take the beast down, yet there’s a disaster zone at least thirty miles wide, thousands dead (missing is what they say, but Makoto knows better) and a burning question injected into everyone’s mind: what the hell happened?

For the weeks that follow the Sydney Rampage, Makoto spends countless summer hours in front of the TV; he watches every single documentary, news report and talk show until he realizes that he is truly terrified.

He learns everything to know so far: the size, the scale, the physiology of this giant beast they’ve dubbed a “Kaiju”. He learns the first one’s been named Akurra, after some Australian snake serpent god and he feels disgusted. Something that horrible shouldn’t be named after a god.

He learns about “Kaiju Blue”, the highly toxic blood of Akurra; how it stains and poisons and destroys everything; he sees people cough up a blue vapor after coming in contact with it; if he were younger, he would think something magical was happening.

Makoto learns that some people think that this is an act of God himself, as punishment for years of sin; he learns about people’s first hand experience; he sees a women on TV with neither an arm or a leg; he watches hundreds of interviews, the remote glued to his hand. He spends his entire summer like this, watching people whose entire lives and families have been taken away from them.

He never gets a call from Rin.

**♦**

The Second Kaiju, nicknamed Dictator, hits Hong Kong seven months later; it takes a week to subdue it. Approximately seventeen thousand people die.

The Third Kaiju, nicknamed Bloodthroat, decimates San Fransisco six months after Dictator; it takes four days to subdue it. Approximately fifty thousand people die.

The Fourth Kaiju, nicknamed Trespasser, rampages Busan four months after Bloodthroat; it takes five days to subdue it. Approximately thirty thousand people die.

It isn’t ending. Makoto continues to learn every single piece of information about this war against the Kaiju, a war the whole world is losing, but are too proud to admit. Politicians ramble and rave, the rich flee from their seaside homes, the middle-class riot because they don’t know what else to do. 

Everyone is helpless.

Yet, his little seaside town remains safe for the meanwhile. He swims with Haru, he fishes with the elderly fisherman by the ocean. He laughs far too much for a boy living in a world that’s slowly being brought to its knees.

When he is twelve, he comes home from home and his mother is waiting on the couch, pursed lips, tears threatening to overflow.

“What happened?” Makoto runs over to her, on instinct, grabbing her hand, even though his is easily masked. 

“The older man you fished with died.”

Makoto doesn’t say anything, his mind goes blank, his ears seem to ring, but he hears two words: “Kaiju Blue.”

The fish Makoto got from the elderly fisherman die the same week.

**♦**

Makoto has always been scared of monsters, but now he is scared of the ocean as well. No one can swim in the ocean anymore; it’s off limits because of toxic spread of Kaiju Blue from the Busan attack eight months ago. No one can eat fish, no one can eat anything ocean-related and the rest of the world realizes this along with Makoto. Rationing follows suit and everything Makoto has ever known is falling apart. The little seaside town that Makoto has grown up with screeches to a halt.

Makoto stops swimming in the public pool and Haru says nothing. Haru and Makoto still sometimes walk along the seashore, but it always seems a bit too blue. 

**♦**

The ninth Kaiju attacks Manila when he’s fifteen and finally,  _finally_  humanity strikes back. It’s straight out of the pages of manga he never read as a child, the giant robots battling huge monsters and winning.

Makoto watches it all on TV, finds himself staring straight into the eyes of the Kaiju, cheers along with the Rangers at every successful punch, yells along with his brother and sister as the beast finally drops, dead, into the ocean.

“It has happened! The First Kaiju defeated by Rangers O’Donnell and Klein in Jaeger Blitz Punch. The Jaeger Program has succeeded. Manila has been saved! Humanity begins its counterattack.” The reporter flashes a filmy smile into the camera and there’s a hearty laugh from the cameraman.

He remember his brother and sister clutching onto his arms and looking up into his eyes. 

“Do you want to be a Ranger when you grow up?”

Makoto doesn’t answer because he doesn’t know.

**♦**

The string of victories doesn’t last long, only a year of relative peace and severe rationing, considering this war has gone on over seven years. The Jaegers start losing; they’re outnumbered and over the year, twenty two Jaegers have been destroyed. 

Stronger, faster, Kaiju start to show up and now there are Category III and IV Kaiju winning, destroying, ripping apart Jaegers limb from limb, a shower of metallic parts and sparks, there’s roars and screeches that still somehow find their way into Makoto’s sleep and his dreams. 

Makoto continues to watch the news reports, learns about the Anti-Kaiju Wall Plan, learns that the Jaeger Program is suffering heavy losses of personnel. Makoto goes to bed each night with an increasing sense of weariness, though it’s nothing to what the rest of the world is feeling.

The Anti-Kaiju Wall is slowly being built.

Jaegers are losing, Rangers are dying.

Makoto starts having nightmares again.

**♦**

A Category IV Kaiju destroys the Wall (though it’s no surprise), attacks Brisbane and Makoto feels like he’s nine again, holding that same remote, the cordless phone wedged against his ear, waiting for Rin to pick up.

A Jaeger intercepts it at the Miracle Mile and absolutely thrashes it, blue blood taints the water, machine parts scatter through the water like crowds of fish.

That same week, Makoto takes a aptitude test for the PPDC; the Jaeger Program is desperate enough to start collecting high schoolers, it seems. It’s now required for all seventeen year olds in PPDC-affiliated countries to take a test to determine future pilots.

He passes with “flying colors”, the overly eloquent letter states in curlicued letters, but it doesn’t soften the harsh, printed red letters below it: “ _You are required to attend the Jaeger Academy in Anchorage, USA by January 15th._ ”

His mother sighs, his father collapses on the couch, both his siblings start to sob; they’re now old enough to understand that being a Ranger spells out certain death.

Makoto’s mother walks over to him, takes the letter from him gently, and smooths his hair back, tears welling in her eyes.

“It’s alright, Makoto. You’ll be a brave Ranger; just try your best.”

Makoto falls into his mother’s arms and they stand there hugging for a full minute until his mother breaks off. A watery smile finds its way to her face.

“Now, you should get packing! Only two more days till the fifteenth and no child of mine is going to be late for something as important as this!” She huffs while straightening his collar.

He calls Haru that night.

“I got accepted, Haru. I’m leaving on the fifteenth,” Makoto is about to hang up when Haru answers back, “I’m coming with you, Makoto.”

“What?”

“I got accepted too,” Haru answers, calm and cool as always.

**♦**

“This training program will be a total of twenty four weeks and will be divided into three eight-week trimesters,” the instructor barks at the small group of trainees; not including Haru and Makoto, it’s about ten people. 

The instructor gaze pierces Makoto; he is frozen in place by the intensity.

“We’ll break your spirit once and then we’ll do it again. This is as close to hell as it gets,” she summarizes and dismisses them.

**♦**

She’s right.

Makoto has never been under such stress, under such pressure ever before. He works his body to the bone, crams technical phrases into his brain, fights with other hopefuls until bruises bloom all over his body, memorizes the workings of a Drivesuit until he can do it in his sleep.

Through these weeks of hell, there’s only one familiar thing: Haru. Makoto spars against him one time and they both feel it; they are Drift compatible, they know each other’s every move. During experimental Drift Sync testing, they drift seamlessly together, memories flowing into one another, an endless river of thoughts and faint words. They have always been intertwined, but in the Drift, it’s something more.

Haru Drifts like he floats on water; he is always calm and placid, cool-headed and thoughtful.

Hell ends for Makoto and Haru with the flimsy-looking Ranger pin tacked to the lapels of their suits.

They’re the only two left from their batch of twelve after half a year of blood, sweat and tears.

**♦**

The Tokyo Shatterdome is incredibly large, encompassing almost the same area as their hometown. People are rushing around everywhere, carrying intricate pieces of machinery, forklifts roam the floor with huge motors hoisted onto them; there’s so much  _noise_  and life here.

Someone finds them both standing in awe of a Jaeger being repaired hundreds of meters above them.

“Ranger Tachibana and Ranger Nanase, right? I’m Aiko.” 

They both jump up and turn towards the small brunette standing in front of them.

“I’m here to take you to see your Jaeger.”

**♦**

“This is Little Stinger. Mark III, one of the oldest Jaegers still in active duty. She’s small but she packs a punch. Actually, she’s specially designed for underwater fights; she can cut through the water pretty easily.”

Aiko reassuringly pats the leg of the Jaeger.

Little Stinger had seen better days; the peeling yellow paint job is a sign of that, as was the rusted sections of machinery near the neck and head joint. Linda notices their upward gazes: “Don’t worry about her; those little nicks and scars are just proof of how strong she is.” 

She walks past them back to her post.

“Don’t give up on your Jaeger before you get into it. Some people here think that Jaegers can understand who and what you’re thinking before you even Drift with it.”

**♦**

Four weeks after they’ve settled into the Shatterdome, they’re called for duty. It’s five in the morning. Makoto wakes up first; he never really falls asleep anymore, it’s only a ghost of rest. 

It’s a Category III Kaiju,  _thank god,_  he finds himself relaxing when he shouldn’t. Jaeger Academy days resurface: “Treat every Kaiju as if it’s a Category V!” and he wakes Haru.

“It’s time to go?” Haru asks quietly while Makoto splashes his face with water.

“Yes.”

Little Stinger is waiting for them.

**♦**

_The Drift is silence. The Drift is silence._ Makoto repeats over and over again; no matter who it its, even Haru, Makoto still tenses when he has to Drift; he’s always afraid that something bad will come from his memories, but now there’s nothing he can do now. It’s time to go.

“Prepare drop sequence. Initiate neural handshake,” Makoto speaks into the system while Haru flips a row of switches. There’s a sharp intake of breath as Makoto gets sucked into the Drift; there’s blue, blue, blue everywhere; faces peek out of folds of turquoise; words murmur to him and he can pick out specific words: “Mother”, “Onii-san”, “Haru!” He can see hidden layers of Haru, those small, hidden smiles, swimming; Haru’s memories are composed entirely of swimming and Haru floats through the Drift effortlessly. It takes Makoto a moment to get focused.

“Neural handshake strong and holding. Drop initiated,” Aiko asserts into the mic and that familiar feeling fills Makoto’s stomach again; that pitlessness whenever they’re Dropped, like peaking and falling on a rollercoaster. They’re just within the Miracle Mile, and on strict orders, they’re to sink to the bottom of the ocean.

“Blackstriker’s a fast one,” Aiko speaks into the mic, “It’s more like an eel than anything; other Jaegers aren’t fast enough to counter its moves, so stay alert and keep on your toes. Keep all your sensors on and wait silently until we get confirmed visual that he’s within the Miracle Mile.”

“Roger that.”

It’s completely silent. Makoto would like to imagine that he can hear and feel the water moving around them; he wants to see the schools of fish gliding in and out of Little Stinger’s joints, but he can’t.

They’re cloaked in black, the ocean hides Little Stinger and Blackstriker from one another, but at some point, they will find each other. There’s movement from somewhere and a flash of blue.

“Little Stinger!” Aiko yells into the mic; their Jaeger is hit squarely in the chest with Kaiju acid. 

Makoto looks out of the head and notices that the metal is dissolving away and blue taints the water. It’s fluorescent and lights up the water in a hazy, murky blue and Makoto notices the small crowds of fish slowing down as they reach the Kaiju acid.

The fish are going to die.

Makoto latches onto something in the Drift; he knows he’s not supposed to, yet he does anyway. He’s sucked into the day of the first Kaiju attack, that day Makoto’s so often reminded of when he finds pictures of Rin. He can see himself standing in shock, that same phone clenched to his ear. He can hear the dial tone and that echo of a bellow seems even louder now. Makoto resurfaces again when another round of Kaiju acid is spewed onto them; Little Stinger groans and shivers in response.

“Tachibana!” Aiko shrieks into the mike, “Stay out of the Drift! Don’t latch on to  _anything_.”

But he does and this time it’s Haru’s memory of that day as well, except Haru is crying with the phone held against his ear. Makoto already knows who he’s calling: Rin. Makoto stands in the corner of the kitchen and watches Haru redial the number over and over and over again, tears running down his face.

“Haru…” Makoto whispers, but he should know better; these are memories, nothing more and nothing less. But it still hurts - they’re only nine and the world they know has already crumbled into tiny pieces.

Makoto is sucked into the funeral of his Kaiju Blue diseased fish, the funeral Haru only knew about. There are no tears, there is no emotion at all, only a mound of dirt in the front yard and a half filled jar of wildflowers. There’s a thud and Makoto is shoved back into reality.

Blackstriker is directly on top of them, it’s a wrestling match between a snake and a mongoose. Makoto and Haru sync up,  _finally_ , and punch its head. There’s an enraged cry that sends shivers up Makoto’s spine; it’s like he’s living in one of his childhood nightmares. Blackstriker could easily rip them limb from limb, could absolutely destroy them. The weight is lifted off of them and Blackstriker disappears into the ocean’s depths.

“This is no use, Haru. We can’t do anything to figure out where it is only based on infrared sensors; we need to  _see_  it with our own eyes. But it’s too damn fast and it shoots goddamn acid that we can’t deflect,” Makoto allows himself the pleasure of expletives and focuses back on the murky depths of the ocean.

 _The Drift is silence. The Drift is silence._  He can’t allow himself another mishap by getting lost again.

Haru turns to Makoto.

“It’ll be alright, Makoto,” Haru murmurs and Makoto’s caught in the Drift again but this time, it’s with Haru. They walk hand in hand with each other, hop over bad memories like stepping stones, until they reach that one walk along the beach. It’s too peaceful, even though the world is ending, Makoto thinks.

“It’s alright, Makoto,” the Haru in the Drift murmurs and Makoto’s breath hitches. Even though he’s the dominant pilot, Haru has always been the pillar of support. Haru takes his hand again and they walk over to the Jaeger Academy days, Makoto bloody and bruised from too many fights with the wrong people and Haru, as always, holds a hand out and picks him up.

The path Haru and Makoto walk through the Drift is one that Makoto has never encountered before, one of calmness and thoughtfulness. It would be Haru’s inner soul if it could ever be described. He feels at ease.

Haru and Makoto resurface and the water’s brighter now, folds of sunshine making its way through the water. Little Stinger can finally see Blackstriker. Haru and Makoto nod together and cut through the water. They grab Black Striker with two arms, as it wriggles, and pound it, once, twice, thrice until it’s shocked into silence.

For a second, Makoto thinks it’s over but he’s wrong. Blackstriker screeches and pounds its arms into the already weak chest of Little Stinger and Makoto feels their Jaeger’s stomach cave in. 

“Little Stinger! Your lower midsection’s reaching a critical point; any more stress and you won’t be able to use your legs anymore!” Aiko informs them and Haru grimaces.

Blackstriker continue _s_ to pound on Little Stinger’s midsection and a red WARNING sign appears in front of the infrared overlay.

“Shit, we can’t use our legs to the fullest degree anymore,” Makoto swears.

“We just have to gamble it on this last attack. Wait,” Haru answers, calm and composed, arms locked into position.

There’s silence again and Blackstriker decides to go for the head. Makoto follows Haru’s lead and punches it in its midsection. Haru activates a switch and knives erupt from Little Stinger’s knuckles. Makoto and Haru strain to push the blades meters and meters inward until it reaches the heart. Blackstriker shrieks and shrieks and for a moment, Makoto almost feels sad.

It stops screeching and Makoto dislodges the knives from it. Kaiju Blue stains the water a disgusting blue, but now it seems a little prettier; the water lights up from the rays of sunshine and fluorescent blood.

“It’s almost pretty, huh, Haru?” Makoto laughs and Little Stinger gets to her feet.

“Yeah,” Haru flashes one of his rare smiles.

**♦**

Makoto doesn’t have nightmares anymore.

Haru smiles a bit more often now.

And Little Stinger gets a much needed paint job.

**Author's Note:**

> I. The Miracle Mile is the last-ditch perimeter within a few miles offshore to try and prevent Kaiju from reaching land.


End file.
